


Pretty Pink Satin

by alexipyretic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexipyretic/pseuds/alexipyretic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps the next time Dean decides to don panties for a woman in heels, he should consider locking the door. Not that Sam truly minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Pink Satin

Sam couldn’t have scraped this visual from the depths of his own mind if he’d tried, not if he’d spent hours digging up the filthiest possibilities every night for a decade. If anything, he’d supposed that Dean might have a thing for the reverse, particularly after that night Sam had been digging through his brother’s duffel for a spare tee and come up with a lacey scrap of fabric that Dean had termed a trophy, and Sam had labeled as disgusting. The shock only contributes to the prurience of the moment, his breath still in his chest as he peers into the room through the half open door. 

She’s got Dean standing with his chest against the wall, the bed obscuring Sam’s vision from seeing his brother below the thighs, but god, that’s all he needed. The girl’s ass is bare beneath the skirt he watches her toss to the floor, bra dangling from between her fingers as she steps up to Dean clad solely in stilettos. Sam can’t get his eyes to focus on anything above the dip of that smooth back, marred only by a small scar just barely visible above the pink satin stretched tight over his ass. The panties have just a hint of lace in them along the edges, and Sam finds himself biting down on the fist he shoved into his mouth to stifle a whimper.

Dean, however, doesn’t put the least bit of effort into muffling his sounds, and when she drags her painted nails over the expanse of his back, she claps a hand over his mouth to put an end to the moan ripping through him. By some curse or miracle, she’s settled enough in the misinformation that the two of them will be alone for hours, and Sam can hear her every word from the hall.

“No matter how many girls you fuck, or women you bend over, you are never gonna forget my name, pretty boy. I might forget your pretty face in a week, but you’ll still be jacking off with a finger in your ass to Rhonda Hurley ten years from now.”

Sam stays just long enough to see her fingers curl over the waistband of her own panties and yank them down just far enough for her to spread his ass. He’s out the door in seconds, forgetting to shut it behind him as he hightails it to the back end of the street and ducks behind a building with his fingers already working the button of his jeans undone. Sam is fifteen years old when he wraps his fingers around his cock and jerks off to the sight of his older brother’s ass attired in satin, and spends more than the occasional moment over the next ten years wondering if it’s too late to send Rhonda a fruit-flavored lube basket in gratitude.


End file.
